Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
By the time I made my way back out, Harrison was gone, along with his swim trunks.
I exhaled hard, threw on jeans and a tee, then made my way into the common area.
Harrison was waiting for me, changed out of the trunks, but not in one of his usual suits. No, this was Harrison in casual mode. He had on well-fitting chinos, a brown belt, and a tucked-in black polo shirt.
It was somehow just as hot as his suits, even if he didn’t have sleeves to roll up and torture me with.
That wasn’t the only thing different about Harrison, though.
There was something guarded about him.
“Do you have an idea what you want for dinner?” he asked.
There was a chill in his voice.
My arms crossed, my hands rubbing up over the goosebumps on my skin.
“I’m not picky,” I said, barely resisting the urge to shift my feet. “We can just grab something on the way.”
“Okay,” he agreed, turning to grab his wallet, then making his way to the door.
I slid my feet into shoes behind the door, watching him turn away from me and go into the vestibule.
Something had changed.
He had changed.
And that change had my heart feeling deflated in my chest.
I figured maybe it was just a fleeting mood. We all had them. But then he barely spoke a word to me when we ducked into a sandwich shop, just waited for me to order my food, ordered his own, and paid for us both.
We ate and walked, so maybe that shouldn’t have felt uncomfortable that we didn’t speak, but my stomach twisted itself into knots the whole way to the shop. Enough that I lost my appetite after the first half of my sandwich and gave the rest to an unhoused man we passed.
The market was just as awkward. To anyone passing, we likely looked like a couple who’d just gotten into an awful argument and didn’t want to be anywhere near each other.
The thought of eating anything made me queasy, but I tossed one or two snacks into the cart as Harrison filled it up.
By the time we got back to the apartment, I had the strangest, almost overwhelming urge to cry.
I tried to focus on my studies, but the words swam. My room felt claustrophobic. Nothing on TV held my attention.
And Harrison was silently rearranging the damn pantry.
Not sure what else to do, I got into some workout clothes, slipped into sneakers, and made my way out of my room.
“I’m going for a run.”
Harrison glanced over his shoulder at me.
“You hate running.”
“I do.”
It turned out I hated being in the apartment with him and the weird, complicated feelings stirring between us all the more.
So I did the real mature thing.
And physically ran away from my problems.
Until my knees were wobbly.
Until my head was pounding from dehydration.
Until I barely had the energy to go home, do a quick body shower, and slip into sweats.
But when I tried to get into my bed, I smelled him on the sheets.
I ripped the bedding off with a growl, carrying it out into the hall where I’d heard Harrison’s clothes swishing around in a closet at night.
Emotionally raw and exhausted, I curled up on the couch with some silly sitcom on the TV and started to drift off.
I came awake with a start as the world fell away from under me.
“You’re okay,” Harrison said. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked as he pulled me against his chest.
“Sheets smelled like you,” I admitted, still too asleep to remember I didn’t want to admit things like that to him.
The admission had him tensing.
“I’ll put you in the other room.”
Then he was turning, walking, carrying me away.
“Why do you care?” I asked, leaning my face against his bare shoulder.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question,” he admitted before dropping me down on the mattress.
Then he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I sat up, fully awake, feeling a sinking sensation in my chest.
Why?
Because he was finally over his infatuation with me?
Like I’d been wanting?
Like I’d been waiting for?
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I grumbled, feeling the wetness dripping down my cheeks.
This had to stop.
I needed to spend the next day planning, then just invest the damn money. Watch the stocks, adjust as necessary, and get Harrison the fifteen percent he wanted from me.
Then he’d sign the papers.
And I never had to see him again.
I was just going to have to pretend that the idea of that didn’t make my heart feel smashed to pieces in my chest.
It was a good thing I was practiced in the art of bluffing.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next five days passed in shockingly uncomfortable silence.
I slept in while he got ready for work.
When he came home, he made dinner or ordered in, never saying more than a handful of words to me. Then, usually, he went for a run, swim, or to the gym, only speaking to me to tell me that he was leaving.